Stuck in the Middle
by Miss Hal Gibson
Summary: Simon was always prepared. He had a solution to everything. He could solve practically any problem anyone could throw at him. The two of them had had their fair share of fights, but, despite their arguments, Simon was always there when Alvin needed a friend. A best friend.


**AN: Hello everyone! It's 10:30am, and I haven't gone to sleep yet, instead I spent the last two and a half hours writing this! So please, do enjoy it. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Chipmunks, Chipettes, or Dave. No character mentioned in this story is owned by me, kay?  
**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

It was 4am, and Alvin Seville couldn't sleep. He found himself staring up at the ceiling, making out the patterns and shapes, as he had been for hours. The patterns were all starting to blur together by now, and the shapes constantly changed, like they were moving clouds. It was mesmerizing to the young chipmunk.

But by now, he was bored with it. He was tired, but he couldn't sleep. There was something eating at him, what it was he couldn't figure out for the life of him. Today had pretty much been like any other day. There was nothing in particular he could think of that would trigger the strange feelings that were causing him to hold onto consciousness.

It almost felt like...guilt? He felt like he'd done something he should feel bad for. It was rare for Alvin to regret his actions, so he knew he must have done something terrible. Perhaps the feeling of tiredness was clouding his brain and causing him not to remember properly.

* * *

Alvin closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to remember and review his actions that day. He'd slept too late, gotten scolded by Dave, had breakfast, gone to school, argued with Brittany all during math class, slept during English class, made paper airplanes during history, shot spitballs at a group of nerds during science, helped practically destroy the other team during a game of kickball in gym class, came home, fallen asleep on the couch during the new horror film he'd been waiting to watch for months, ate supper, which was Friday night leftovers, got in a fight with Simon over...what was that about again?

The red-clad chipmunk wracked his brain for answers. He couldn't exactly remember what it was about, so it probably was nothing very big or important. Of course...he also couldn't remember what happened that would be keeping him up at such a late hour, and that was probably important. Maybe his brain was deliberately choosing to not remember the important things to spite him. That could be it. His brain sure did hate him sometimes.

So then...the fight with Simon was important. It could be the key to unscrambling his brain and allowing him to get some shut-eye.

Alvin bit his lip and screwed his eyes together, desperately trying to remember the details of the evening before.

* * *

When he couldn't, he sat up in bed, glancing over to the boy in the bed to his left. Simon was fast asleep, his mouth was slightly open and his covers were pulled up to his chin. Those things weren't what drew Alvin's attention, though. The thing Alvin couldn't help but stare at was the dark circle around Simon's entire right eye.

His younger brother had a black eye. Had he done that? Had that fight even _been _a physical one? The two of them had so many fights that they often blurred together in Alvin's memory, especially at moments when he was half asleep.

Even so, it couldn't have been that bad of a fight. Simon bruised easily. Yeah, that was it. That was why he had a black eye. Alvin probably hadn't hit him that hard anyway. They were always throwing punches at one another, both of them were used to it by now.

* * *

No matter what Alvin told himself in an attempt to convince his mind he shouldn't feel bad about it, he felt guilty. He felt slight resentment towards himself for hitting his younger brother hard enough to leave such a large, dark bruise. Shouldn't his glasses have served as a shield anyway? They were nearly as big as his entire face after all.

Alvin studied the features of his slightly younger sibling, from the curve of his cheek to the crease of his mouth. Simon breathed slowly, sometimes moving slightly to adjust his blankets in his sleep. He'd pull them further up against him, so he was wrapped in a little bundle.

Simon slept in a way that Alvin found very dissimilar to his personality. The bespectacled chipmunk was the type that could easily stand up for himself due to his witty tongue, he was the type to throw out sarcastic remarks, often knowing of the consequences but not minding them. He was the type who would go out of his way to make sure he wasn't outsmarted. He was sometimes shy, but definitely not enough to prohibit him from performing in front of a crowd, be it during a concert or during an hour long speech on the laws of physics. He was usually pretty confident, and not afraid to showcase his talents. Yeah, Simon could stand on his own two feet.

But the way he slept was different. He bundled himself in his blankets, he curled into a ball. He covered as much of his body as he could without smothering himself. To Alvin, it seemed as though he was using them as a shield, to protect himself from the outside world. It seemed as though, in his subconscious, Simon felt almost vulnerable. Like a scared little child, afraid of what was next to come.

* * *

That was a strange thought to Alvin. Simon was always prepared. He had a solution to everything. He could solve practically any problem anyone could throw at him. The two of them had had their fair share of fights, but, despite their arguments, Simon was always there when Alvin needed a friend. A _best _friend.

He was a wonderful younger brother to Alvin, and an equally wonderful older brother to Theodore.

That's when it hit Alvin. He never though about how it would feel to be in Simon's shoes. He was a rock to the overly dramatic Alvin and the painfully oblivious Theodore. He even provided Dave with a shoulder to lean on during the hard times.

The more Alvin thought about it, the more he realized how selfless his brother could be. He put his family before himself, the majority of the time. And even through his snippy remarks he still showed he had their best interests at heart.

Alvin had heard the term 'unappreciated middle child' before, on a TV show once. It described a child, the 'middle child' of a family, who, despite their efforts to please their family, to do good, to get a little pat on the back, went unheard. Could that accurately describe Simon, then? Perhaps that's just what he was, unappreciated. How could it possibly feel to be stuck in the middle like that?

* * *

Alvin was always going to be the oldest, no matter what life handed to them during their journey. Theodore would probably always be the baby of the family, unless Dave had kids of his own, which Alvin highly doubted would happen at this point. But Simon was in a position neither of the other chipmunks would ever experience: he was in the middle.

Simon was also a child prodigy. His efforts went unpraised because they were _expected _out of him. Everyone knew he would always do well at practically anything he tried, because it was in his blood. He was a genius, he did well in every subject at school. He didn't get rewarded for having straight A's, because he always had them. He didn't get an ice cream cone for passing a history test, because he knew his history like he'd been there.

* * *

Alvin felt a frown come over his face. That term fit Simon perfectly.

The little pang of guilt he'd felt earlier grew. He didn't appreciate his brother, instead he just picked fights with him over the silly little things like knocking over his stack of baseball cards, tripping over the cords to his video games, or looking at him wrong. He didn't tell Simon he did good, he insulted him for doing good. He called him a 'nerd', a 'geek', a 'dork'.

In truth, he was very proud of Simon. What older brother wouldn't be proud of Simon Seville? He was a genius, and Alvin knew he'd get very far in life, that he could achieve literally anything he wanted to.

He'd probably never be able to tell him that to his face, though. It would just end up turning into a battery of insults, probably eventually from both parties.

Still, he could be proud in his mind. He could appreciate Simon in his mind. He could be thankful, in his mind.

In his mind, he could be a good brother.

* * *

Alvin lied back down in his bed, still facing the blue-clad chipmunk on his left. Simon had his insecurities, as did everyone else. He wasn't perfect, and he wasn't insusceptible to the pain and torment of being unappreciated.

But Alvin didn't feel guilty anymore. Because he did care. He _did _appreciate Simon, even if he didn't say it out loud.

First thing in the morning, he was apologizing for that black eye. Preferably before he caused another one.

* * *

**Hope that was enjoyable. :) I didn't proof read, so I also hope there were no terrible errors anywhere in there. I've been awake nearly 20 hours, so cut me some slack. This story was partially based on the things that were established in Good Old Simon, about how Simon is unappreciated at times. I figured Alvin should have an analysis of that. **

**Thank you for reading!**


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